Back Home to a Broken Past
by SunnydaleGirl
Summary: After six years away Willow's called back to Sunnydale to help out her friends but will they welcome her with open arms?
1. Chapter One

**Note: I've gone through and revamped this entire story – added some new chapters, changed existing ones, yadda yadda – so if you're going through this and things look different, that's why ****J****. Plus, if you've already read the "old version" you may want to go back and scan through the chapters just to be sure you've got all the info – the chapters are short so it's no biggie people!**

**Summary: **It's been six years since Willow left Sunnydale on terms that were anything but friendly: her friends had placed a great deal of blame upon the redhead's shoulders. Now, the once-upon-a-time nerdy hacker is an employee of the Watcher's Council working in one of it's "special departments" with two unlikely friends. Under orders Willow is sent back to Sunnydale to help out her old friends – will it be a happy reunion or will old wounds be opened anew?

**Disclaimer:** All BtVS characters belong to Joss and his brilliant mind – which I just love so much.

**Rating:** Oh hell, I don't know. PG, I guess, for a little language here and there.

**Author's Note:** This story is set roughly 6 years after Season 3 (so, like, the year 2005 give or take a few months). Events leading up to, let's say, "Revelations" still hold relatively true – though, of course, I've twisted them to fit my needs J. A few character's, however, don't exist in this story: Faith, Anya, Wesley and, obviously, any new players that came in after Season 3. Oh, and one final note: I've added a bit of a, well, kink between Willow and Angelus so be prepared.

**Chapter One**

          Winter's in northern Scotland are bitter cold and that dark January morning showed no mercy to the young woman crouching amidst damp weeds three miles outside of Aberdeen, her eyes locked to the guards pacing an abandoned warehouse's roof. Dawn was still hours off and the young woman had kneeled motionless for over four hours, surveying in utter silence and filing to memory all observations, even the most mundane.

          Checking her watch the young woman nodded and glanced up at the rooftop. After two weeks of surveillance she knew that every morning, at precisely, three o'clock the guards changed shift. From her position the woman was able to see one of the guards check his own watch before glimpsing, quickly, over his shoulder.

          Ten 'til three.

          A harsh, static voice broke the early morning stillness and hissed into the young woman's ear, "Queen Command to Pioneer, is your team is position?"

          Pressing the piece in her ear, eliciting a gentle 'click' from the device, the young woman – also the Team Commander – spoke into an unseen walkie-talkie, "Night Hawk, is your squad in position?"

          A moment later another woman's voice responded, "Roger that, Pioneer."

          "Show Boy?"

          "Ready and waiting, Pioneer," a male voice answered.

          Signaling to her own squad – a "sub-team" composed of a dozen well-armed and well-trained men – the young woman pressed the communication device again and said, "Pioneer to Queen Command, Team Songbird is in position and awaiting your orders."

          "Copy that Pioneer," the static voice replied. "You're cleared to proceed."

          Cupping her hands over her mouth the young woman mimicked a robin's call, the soft whisper drifting across the breeze, and was answered by two different calls: that of a sparrow and of a blue jay.

          "Alright Songbirds," the young woman grinned. "Let's kick some demon ass."

          Pioneer and her Team had been assigned to "take down" the UK command center of a notorious anti-humanity organization known as the Demon Alliance. Within the seemingly run-down warehouse lay a vast labyrinth of demonic technology in medical, scientific, psychological and supernatural fields all designed for the sole purpose of human extermination. In most recent years the Alliance had become increasingly active and bold in their actions against the Watcher's Council, which has always been its greatest foe, and after the destruction of a Council training facility in southern Brazil the Watcher's decided retaliation must ensue swiftly.

          It was no surprise, then, that when the orders came in Team Songbird was chosen for the mission. Since her arrival at the Council Pioneer had been one of its top agents and it didn't take her Team long to become the most successful Team in operation. Other than rising quickly up the ranks Pioneer was vastly known throughout the Council, and their world-wide affiliates, for her extensive knowledge of demons, dimensions and magic.

          In less than an hour the Alliance operation facility was under compete lockdown, all Alliance agents, seeing as they _were_ demons, were all tagged and bound and placed into the custody of Council Inquiry to be properly interrogated. All research and data was quickly confiscated by Watcher Intelligence to be reviewed and categorized while the machinery and weaponry was packed up in crates to be taken to A&D (Analysis and Design).

          After a brief exchange of words with the lead agent from Intelligence Pioneer and her Team were in flight, heading back to the Council Special-Operations Division (CSOD) – a sub-agency of the Watcher's Council and located three miles outside of Portsmouth. Dawn was sitting just below the horizon when Team Songbird arrived at Infantry Headquarters, a Gothic-styled mansion dated to the late 14th century and filled with stained glass, pointed spires and arches, ribbed vaults, flying buttresses, towering columns and ornate edifices. Marching through the chilled corridor's Pioneer lead her Team to the offices of Watcher Bruckheim, the head of CI (Council Infantry).

          Pioneer, as Team Commander, was asked to a private council with Bruckheim to further discuss the mission and dawn was well passed when she was dismissed.

          "Pioneer," the head of CI called to the Commander just as she stepped to close his office doors.

          Facing her ranking agent Pioneer asked, "Sir?"

          Watcher Bruckheim was a handsome man of early forties, tall and lean, dressed, as is his British nature, in tweed. His warm hazel eyes often peered from behind oval, silver-framed glasses and around his temples gray highlights were advancing deeper into his dusty-brown hair which, Pioneer often observed, only added to his bookish appeal. 

Smiling at the young woman Bruckheim extended his hand, which she took. "Damn fine job, agent Rosenberg."

          Despite herself Willow returned the smile. "Thank you, sir."

          "The same goes for your Team," Bruckheim added. "Where _have_ Show Boy and Night Hawk gone off to?"

          "Oh, you know those two, sir." Opening the door to his office Willow gave Bruckheim another smile before finishing, "They love to watch the sun rise."

          Stretching her arms over her head Willow walked slowly through Infantry Headquarters, chatting with various individuals and making a brief stop at A&D to see the Gadget Man and catch up on all his latest, well, gadgets. Finally, though agent Rosenberg arrived at her destination: the eastern terrace.

          "What the bloody hell took you so long?" Show Boy asked, never taking his eyes from the distant horizon.

          Smirking, and knowing he wasn't paying the least bit of attention to her, Willow responded, "Bruckheim and I had a quick shag."

          "Right, well – What!" Spinning around to face her Show Boy's eyes had nearly bulged out of his head and his jaw was close to reaching the ground.

          "Thought that'd get you're attention."

          Beside Willow, Night Hawk was struggling to contain her laughter. "I'm surprised he even noticed you were gone."

          Shaking her head and sighing dramatically Willow said, "Dru's right, Spike. You and your damn sun rise. It's really not a healthy relationship. Maybe you should see a councilor."

          Rolling his eyes Spike glared at the two women. "Are you through?"

          Both Drusilla and Willow thought for a moment. "Yup," they answered in unison.

          "Now," Willow continued, snaking her arm around Spike's waist. "I'm starved. Let's head over to Dante's for a bite to eat."

          Draping his arm over the redhead's shoulder Spike smiled, "Whatever you want, love."


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

          As usual, Willow slept only a few hours before rolling out of bed and trudging to the CSOD Library, a revamped 16th century chateau located over a mile from HQ – and in truth, Willow did very little 'trudging' and a lot more driving. Still dressed in her flannel pajama bottoms and Manchester United sweatshirt, her feet still adorned in socks and fuzzy slippers. Yawning, Willow handed her authorization card to the guard at the entrance gate, who smiled at the redhead and pushed the button which allowed the thick, iron gate to swing open. 

          Entering the lavish building through a side-entrance Willow climbed a spiraling staircase set in one of the chateau's round towers, exiting the dim tower onto the third-floor. Adjusting the stack of books and notebooks she was carrying Willow moved soundlessly down a long corridor lit by soft, yellow lighting and dotted with glazed windows. Swiping her authorization card and punching the code into the padlock Willow pushed open the door, which read Authorized Personnel Only, and shut it behind her. Moving through the covered courtyard Willow exited through yet another locked door and, finally, entered the chateau's main house and the heart of the CSOD Library.

          High-ceilinged and spacious the room was decorated with beautiful stained glass and statues of marble. Bookcases that reached the ceiling sat in perfect rows encircling large, oak tables with plush chairs which atop beautifully woven rugs of deep colors. Looking around the Library Willow wasn't surprised to find it empty – it was, after all, barely past four in the morning. Dropping her things Willow immediately set to work in organizing the books and papers she had brought with her before settling down into one of the chairs and beginning her research.

          "Here you go, red."

          Finishing the sentence she was writing Willow looked up at the man who had set a mug of coffee beside her. "Thanks Heath," she smiled. "What time is it?"

          Heath, a young Watcher of early twenties with raven-black hair and ebony eyes, returned the smile. "Just after eight."

          "Is it really?"

          "What time did you come in this morning?"

          Gently closing the book before her Willow set her pen down and turned in her chair, tucking her leg beneath her, and rested her cheek against her palm. "About four."

          Heath laughed. "That late, huh?"

          Willow rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

          "What does Bruckheim have you doing this time?"

          "There've been report's about Alliance movement in south California," Willow said sipping her coffee. "Apparently they've enlisted the service of a rather powerful shaman. Intel's picked up a couple of Alliance communications and from what I've been told this shaman is clocking some serious time on the practice field."

          "How so?"

          "In the past three weeks," Willow drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees, "fifteen civilians have gone missing from the same vicinity and so far twelve have been recovered but their minds were completely gone and a few died only hours after being admitted to the local psych ward. The weird part, though, is that those still alive are all demonstrating the same bizarre symptoms." Shifting through all the papers in front of her Willow pulled out a report and read, ticking off each symptom on her fingers. "Primitive behavior, i.e. growling, crawling, extreme ferocity. Animalistic vocals, that is howling, screeching, even barking. Every so often they seem to slip into a kind of hypnotic state where they become brutally homicidal. There are others," Willow said setting the paper back down, "but I think you get the idea."

          Heath nodded. "Do we have any idea as to _why_ the Alliance has enlisted this bloke?"

          "Not yet," Willow sighed.

          "There you are."

          Lifting her head Willow smiled. "Where else would I be?"

          Spike bent down and place a kiss on Willow's lips. "You _should_ be in bed with me."

          "Choose you over books?" Willow mimicked shock, placing her hand over her heart. "I have never heard anything so absurd in my life."

          Both Spike and Heath rolled their eyes, exchanging a knowing look, while Willow simply smiled.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

**Sunnydale: January, 1998**

          "There is no humanity in him."

          "I couldn't have said it better myself."

          Willow awoke with a start, terror thick in her throat. Something was wrong. Something terrible had happened. Foggy images of a nightmare still hung in her mind but she couldn't understand them. All Willow knew was that something had gone horribly wrong. 

          Picking up her phone the redhead dialed Buffy's number. No answer. Looking at her clock she saw it was just past 11:00 pm. Buffy and Angel were probably still dealing with Spike and Drusilla's little birthday gift: the Judge. Feeling a bit more at ease Willow set the phone back in it's receiver and laid back down but all she kept thinking was: Something's wrong.

          By the next morning Willow's mid-night fright attack had completely slipped her mind – she was more concerned with a very distraught Buffy. The normally bubbly, chatty Slayer had hardly uttered a word all and Willow was starting to seriously worry. Later in the afternoon she managed to get a couple of words from Buffy but knew, immediately, what the problem was after mentioning Angel – Buffy paled and went still for a minute before recovering herself and trying to brush it aside as nothing important.

          Oh boy, Willow thought to herself.

          "Have you talked to him today?"

          Buffy shook her head.

          "Well, he probably has some plan and he's trying to protect," Buffy glanced at the redhead hopefully. "I don't know the plan, 'cause I'm not in on it. It's his plan," Buffy's face dropped again and Willow quickly added, "But I'm sure there's a plan. I mean, this is Angel we're talking about."

          Buffy made an excuse soon after to get away from her friends – she was hurting and not letting her friends help her. Sighing, Willow decided that the best way to take her mind off of Buffy was to do some more research on the Judge, who was apparently indestructible. Climbing the stairs into the stacks Willow didn't notice the couple sitting at the base of nearest bookshelf until she tripped over their legs. Looking down Willow saw Xander and Cordelia glued in a serious lip-lock and dropped the book she was holding.

          Startled Xander and Cordelia looked up, Xander's face mimicking the horror he saw in Willow's. Unable to face the sight before her Willow turned and ran. Down the staircase and into the halls she ran, all the while Xander followed calling her name.

          "Willow, wait," he called to the heartbroken redhead. "Come on, Wills stop."

          "I don't want to talk to you right now Xander," Willow managed to say through her tears.

          Finally, Xander caught up to Willow and forced her to face him. "What's the big deal? We were kissing. It doesn't mean that much."

          "No," Willow spat harshly. "It just means that you'd rather be with someone you hate, then be with me."

          Walking through the darkened hallways of Sunnydale High, her tears finally spent, Willow was slowly making her way back to the library – completely lost in her thoughts. Xander and Cordelia? How could he choose _Cordelia_ over her? Willow was truly and utterly crushed. Sure, she and Oz were just starting to hit things off and she really did like Oz but Xander was her first love and her oldest friend. They had played in the sandbox together and he had tormented her Barbie's.

          She loved Xander more than life itself and he had broken her heart without a care in the world.

          "Wills."

          Pausing, Willow turned to face Xander, her cheeks still stained with tears. Shaking her head lightly she met Xander's eyes and said, "Let's get this straight: I don't understand it. I don't want to understand it. You have gross emotional problems, and things are not okay between us. But," she added, "what's happening now is more important than that."

          Nodding slowly Xander agreed, "Okay"

          "So, where do we stand with the Judge?"

          Rolling his eyes Xander sighed. "On a pile of really boring books that all say the same thing."

          "No weapon forged…"

          "You need an army…"

          "Where's an army when you need one?"

          Xander opened his mouth the respond then stopped, an odd look on his face. "Whoa. I think I'm having a thought. Yeah, yeah it's definitely a thought. Now I'm having a plan." Suddenly all the lights in the school shut off and both jumped, startled. "Now I'm having a wiggins."

          Looking around Willow asked, "What's going on?"

          Gripping her arm Xander started to pull Willow down the hall. "Let's get to the library."

          "Willow," Angel spoke from the shadows, "Xander. What's with the lights?"

          "I don't know," Xander said hastily. "But, look I think I have an idea."

          "Forget about that now," Angel waved it away. "I've got something to show you."

          "Show us?" Willow questioned.

          "Yeah. Xander go get the others."

          As Xander took off down the hall, towards the library, Willow approached Angel. "What is it?"

          "It's amazing." Angel sounded different to the redhead but she didn't understand so she kept stepping closer to him.

          "Willow get away from him," Ms. Calendar appeared behind her. "Walk to me," she instructed.

          Turning, Willow asked, "What? What are you talking about – "

          From behind her Angel gripped Willow by the throat, pressing her against his body. "I never could understand," he whispered so only Willow would hear him, "why that souled bastard would chose her when you have so much more fire."

          "Angel?" Willow whimpered.

          "He's not Angel anymore," Ms. Calendar said, Xander at her side. "Are you?"

          "Oh my god," Xander breathed.

          "Angelus," Willow shivered.

          "I have a message for Buffy," he announced.

          "Then why don't you give it to me yourself," Buffy stepped out of the shadows behind Angelus.

          "Oh, it's not really the kind of message you tell. It sort of involves finding the bodies of all your friends."

          Buffy starred at him disbelievingly. "Angel, this can't be you."

          Angelus sighed. "I thought we already covered that subject."

          "Leave Willow alone and deal with me," Buffy said.

          "Oh, but she's so cute and helpless," Angelus touched her cheek. "Really a turn on." Grinning he lowered his head and whispered to the redhead, "I'll be back for you," then tossed her into Xander's arms. "Things are about to get very interesting," he smiled at Buffy before shoving her out of his way and walking away.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

          Three weeks. Willow spent three weeks researching Dé'sa, the shaman whose services the Alliance had enlisted, and had become quite the expert on the 600 year old half-breed – that is to say, half demon and half human. Born in Greece in the late 15th century Dé'sa had become quite the menace in Athens and in result was banned from Greece, by the Watcher's Council, for the whole of eternity. Fleeing Europe altogether the young Dé'sa settled in Egypt where he seemingly "fell off the radar" for nearly a century before a marketplace quarrel turned bloody and entire village was wiped out in Dé'sa's wrath.

          Taken into the Council's custody Dé'sa was imprisoned but managed an escape after an unauthorized guard, of Egyptian descent, attempted to "deal with" Dé'sa on his own – the shaman had easily manipulated the guards mind and, once free of his cell, slit the young man's throat. Since his escape Dé'sa had been a Council fugitive and, as of yet, unable to be located.

          All this was easy enough to learn simply by opening a book but Willow's job was to theorize _why_ Dé'sa had become so suddenly active and why the Alliance had gone out of its way to track him down. Willow had a general idea as to why such a powerful shaman would have need to "hone his skills" and an even stronger idea as to why the Alliance might want someone with abilities such as his own. But Dé'sa was a risk, seeing as he was of keen interest to the Council and the Alliance would know that. Again, Willow asked herself, why?

          Who could his target be? Deep in her mind, however, a small voice whispered to Willow the very answer she didn't want to hear and, in truth, she didn't hear it for she had locked that small voice away behind a wall of denial.

          *Ring*

          Shoving her head under her pillow Willow attempted to drown out the ringing phone.

          *Ring*

          Groaning, she threw her pillow at the wall and looked at her clock. 2:00 am. Someone was going to die. "This had better be good," she growled into the receiver.

          "Sorry to disturb you, agent Rosenberg."

          Sitting up Willow's brow crinkled in confusion. "Watcher Bruckheim? What are you doing calling my home number?"

          "You cell, apparently, is turned off."

          Picking up the small, silver phone from her nightstand Willow say the battery light blinking red. "Oops. Sorry, sir."

          "That's quite alright."

          Pulling the bed sheets around her body, attempting to keep out the cold winter air, Willow asked, "What can I do for you a two o'clock in the morning, sir?"

          "Right, I do apologize for the ungodly hour but I'm afraid the circumstances do call for it."

          Sighing, Willow understood what the 'circumstances' were. "Where are we off to?"

          "There's a jet waiting for you in the hanger," Bruckheim explained. "Team Songbird is to be on board and in air by 0400 hours. The details of your assignment will be faxed to you once you're in-flight."

          "Yes, but where are we going?" Willow repeated.

          There was a paused on the other line before the head of CI answered, "Sunnydale."

          "Oh."

          "I understand your hesitation – "

          "No, sir," Willow assured her ranking agent. "It's been a long time since then. I've moved past it as I'm sure they have. Team Songbird will be in flight at 0400, sir."

          "Good to hear. Happy hunting, Pioneer."

          Willow smiled. "Aye, sir." Placing the phone back in its cradle Willow closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath.

          "Who the bloody hell was that?" Spike grumbled beside Willow.

          "Bruckheim. We have orders," Willow answered. "Get Dru. We're moving out, pronto."

          Rolling over, Buffy hit the Snooze button on her alarm clock and pushed herself out of bed, careful not to wake the sleeping form beside her. Yawning, she stretched her arms over her head and shuffled into the bathroom. Twisting the bath faucet on Buffy held her hand beneath the water until it was warm then pulled the shower knob and stepped in, sliding the glass door shut behind her. It was just past 7:00 am and Giles expecting her at the Magic Box by 8:30 to do that weeks inventory.

          Shutting off the water Buffy wrapped a towel around her body and tiptoed back into the bedroom to get dressed. Pulling a sweater over her head she headed back into the bathroom to dry her hair but just as she turned on the blow-dryer a loud _crash_ came from the bedroom. Startled she set the dryer down and turned to see what had happened but was sideswiped by a fist. Stumbling a few feet Buffy looked up, ready to face her assailant.

          "Xander?"

          Lifting the baseball he held between his hands Buffy's lover swung at her head. Ducking, quickly, from the blow Buffy managed to slip out of the bathroom, trying to parry each of Xander's swings. Looking at him Buffy knew he was under some kind of spell – his movements looked almost programmed and his eyes starred straight out before him.

          Finally, though, she managed to strike back and landed a solid punch to Xander's jaw. He fell hard. Shaking his head, as though waking from a strange dream, Xander lifted confused eyes to his lover.

          "Buffy?"

          Several blocks away Oz was frantically dodging Cordelia's fist, which was gripping a very large butchers knife and stabbing at his chest. Like Xander, the ex-cheerleader's movements were stiff and her eyes starred always forward. Able, after Cordelia over-swung and stumbled forward, to shove his lover away from him Oz watched Cordelia slam into the wall behind her, her head thumping against the hard plaster.

          "Oz?"

          Three hours later Giles sat behind the checkout counter of the Magic Box trying to quiet the four who stood before him shouting for answers. He was well aware of what had occurred – hearing it only a hundred times – and wanted nothing more then to give answers to the four individuals he considered his own children.

          If only they'd shut up!

          "Please," Giles shouted and was met by immediate obedience. "Thank you. Now, I know you're all concerned, as am I, but nothing will be solved if you continue to shout at me for answers I do not have."

          "Sorry, Giles," the four muttered.

          "We're obviously dealing with a demon," Giles observed and the others nodded their agreement. "Right, now – " Groaning, the Watcher turned to answer his phone and returned a short time later. "Well," he said stiffly. "I just had a lovely conversation with Head Watcher Travers and apparently they're sending over a team to deal with this situation."

          "When?" Cordelia asked.

          Giles glanced at his watch before answering, "They should be here any moment."

          "What!" All four exclaimed and shot to their feet.

          "That means the Council's known about for at least a day," Buffy observed. "_We_ didn't even know about it until a couple of hours ago."

          "Wait," Xander put it. "How could the Council have known about this before us?"

          Giles shrugged. "The Council has its ways. Apparently they're sending the best they have."

          "Right," Buffy scoffed. "A group of tweed wearing, stuffy, middle-aged, British men with an I'm-better-than-you attitude looking to get their joneses by bossing around the Slayer and her Scooby Gang."

          The response to Buffy's outburst, however, came from the last person any of the Sunnydale gang had expected, "Close, Buffy, but no dice."


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

          Silence. Heavy, layered, stunned silence. Giles was attempting to form words, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound was emitted. Cordelia looked as though may faint and Oz as though he'd just seen a ghost. Xander fell into the chair behind him, his mouth hanging open and astonishment in his eyes. Buffy looked almost insulted.

          "It's been a long time," Willow spoke coolly as she stepped into the Magic Box, letting the door close behind her.

          Shaking himself from his stupor Giles stepped from behind the counter. "Willow?"

          Buffy, however, moved straight to the point, "What do you want?"

          "Right," Willow's eyes turned cold, her tone harsh. "It's nice to see you too, Buffy. Oh and by the way I've been doing just fine since you ran me out of town six years ago. Not that you even care."

          Buffy's face softened. "Willow – "

          "Don't Buffy," the redhead interrupted. "An apology now, from you, would be pointless and in vain and done only to make _yourself_ feel better about the way you treated me. So let's just skip the whole kiss-and-makeup reunion, okay?"

          Buffy starred at Willow as though the redhead had struck her. She regretted the way things had ended between them, that Willow could see in her old friend's eyes, but she wasn't willing to forgive or forget. Willow, on the other hand, had never fully recovered from the events that had driven her from her childhood home and turned her friends against her. What the Scooby's had done to Willow was not something she'd ever forget and forgiveness was just too much to ask.

          Turning away from Buffy Willow spoke, "Giles, I'm assuming you've been briefed on the situation."

          Looking very much taken aback Giles stumbled over his response, "Oh, um, well, yes I suppose so, but – "

          Lifting her hand Willow silence his stuttering and asked, "You have spoken to Head Watcher Travers, right?" Giles nodded. "Did he disclose any of the details concerning the matter?" This time Giles shook his head and Willow sighed. "Figures. That pompous airbag, he couldn't tie his shoes without proper assistance."

          "Wait a second," Cordelia chimed in. "How do _you_ know about all this?"

          Rolling her eyes Willow starred at her old childhood tormenter. "Still not the brightest thing are you, Cordy? Let me spell this out for you, okay? An organization known as the Demon Alliance has enlisted the aid of a rather powerful shaman by the name of Dé'sa who has placed all of you under a hypnotic spell. Are you following me so far?" Willow's question was met by looks of confusion and she smiled to herself. "Unknown to you is the fact that Dé'sa's control over your sleeping mind, that is your subconscious, is total meaning there's a possibility that at any given time of any given day you are acting under his command. Now, seeing as Hope is in your care and at risk of suffering because of the manipulation against you the Watcher's Council has deemed this situation within their jurisdiction and, as such, dispatched a team or, more specifically, _my_ team, to place you under quarantine until after the resolution of this situation."

          Huffing, Buffy stepped forward. "So let me get this straight," her voice was strained and Willow knew she was struggling to conceal her anger. "You're working for the Council who has sent you here to quarantine _us_ because a shaman has worked his mojo and we're now a threat to Hope?"

          "Well," Willow grinned, "there's more to it then that but you lack the proper authorization to be enlightened as to the full situation at hand so for now, yes, that's all you need to know."

          "So," Cordelia spoke, "where's your team?"

          Willow, who had thought Spike and Drusilla had followed her inside, turned around and sighed. "I swear," she muttered to herself. "If I could kill those two I would." Cupping her hands over her mouth Willow whistled softly, mimicking a robin's call. "Show Boy. Night Hawk," she snapped. "Fall in!"

          Spike and Dru hurried inside, muttering apologies.

          "Oh – "

          "My – "

          "God – "

          Peering over Willow's shoulder Spike and Dru couldn't help but laugh. Giles, Xander and Buffy starred like characters out of Three Stooges movie and, unable to resist, Team Songbird returned:

          "Larry – "       

          "Moe – "

          "Curly – "

          Their mouths moving, attempting to form coherent thought, the Scooby's starred at the threesome. But, before any of the them regained the ability of speech Willow's call phone rang. Pressing the speaker-phone button Willow answered it, "Rosenberg here."

          From the microphone, attached to her phone, tucked into one of the many holders at her belt, a static voice asked, "Have the birds landed?"

          "Yes, sir," Willow replied. "The birds have entered the roost."

          "Nicely done, Pioneer."

          Nodding to her Team, smiling, Willow answered, "Thank you, sir. And our orders?"

          "Team Songbird is to search and destroy."

          "Copy that Command."

          "Good luck, Pioneer."

          Grinning at the joke between herself and Bruckheim Willow responded, "Luck is for the weak, sir."

          "Who was _that_?"

          Ignoring Xander's question Willow faced Buffy. "Agent Rosenberg. First Division Council Infantry and Commander of Team Songbird. By orders of my superiors and by the authority of the Council of Watchers I hereby place you under quarantined arrest until further notice. Any violation of these orders will result in immediate and severe retribution followed by imprisonment and trial before the Council. Have I made myself clear?"

          "No," Buffy spoke defiantly. "I will _not_ follow such ludicrous orders from a bunch of old guys half way across the world and I will _not_ sit back a let you place us under quarantine."

          Willow's face turned to stone and Buffy took an involuntary step back as the redhead moved towards her, as did the others. "You _don't_ want to fuck with me, Buffy," the redhead threatened. "I'm not the mousy, defenseless little hacker you turned your back on. You _will_ do as I tell you or you'll have to deal with me and don't be so sure that you'll come out victorious."

          Buffy didn't respond. Instead she looked away and Willow's eyes fell upon the others who did the same. Satisfied that her point was made Willow turned and headed towards the door, followed by Spike and Drusilla. "Oh," Willow stopped, glancing over her shoulder. "I'll be in contact."

          With that she closed the door behind her and left her once-friends starring at the door in utter shock.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

**Sunnydale: February, 1998**

          He was stalking her. Willow felt his presence everywhere she went. At school his face lingered behind her eyes; during research session at the library he stood in the stacks; when Buffy walked her home each night he trailed them in the shadows; at night, when she lay down to sleep, he stood on her balcony. Watching. Always watching her and studying her. His eyes gaze felt like fire against her skin and her cheeks blushed each time it settled upon her. But she never saw him, only felt him. He was always cautious to keep to the shadows and it was slow torture to know how close he was and being unable to see him.

          It was wrong, Willow knew. He was the enemy and she should despise him and fear him, but she didn't. She craved the twisted obsession he had found in her; craved the feel of his eyes against her flesh; craved the lust he had for her. Why? Because Willow had never known what it was like to be truly desired – Xander had rejected her for Cordelia and Oz didn't hold that passion for her. Her friends, as usual, paid little attention to Willow, each too busy with their own lives to notice the slight redhead slipping away from them.

          Xander and Cordelia were wrapped up only in each other; Oz was focused on the band; Giles slaved over books trying to find a soul restoration spell; Buffy was lost in her own grief. Willow was truly and utterly along.

          Until he finally came to her.

          "Silly girl," he spoke from her balcony. "You know better then to leave your door open. There are dangerous things in the night."

          Looking up from the book she was reading Willow starred at him for a moment. He stood just outside the doorframe, dressed in black, his porcelain skin clashing against the black night. "There's no barrier," she finally spoke. "Nothing to keep you from coming inside, Angelus."

          Cocking his head to the side Angelus grinned, stepping over the threshold and into Willow's room. "Why didn't you un-invite me, Willow?"

          Shrugging, the redhead set her book on her nightstand and responded, "Because I didn't want to."

          Moving with perfect grace Angelus stood at the end of Willow's bed, his eyes never leaving hers. Tsking, he said, "That wasn't smart, Willow."

          "Why not?" She asked bluntly, watching Angelus flinched, obviously taken aback by her forwardness.

          "I'm dangerous," he answered arrogantly.

          Willow grinned slightly. "I know what you are, Angelus. You're a hunter and I'm your prey. Though," she added leaning closer to him, "you disappoint me."

          "How is that?"

          "You're stealth," she noted. "It sucks."

          Again, Angelus looked taken aback by her response and, Willow guessed, he was not much accustomed to be surprised by others. "Oh, Willow. You're truly intoxicating," he whispered, caressing Willow's cheek. "It's such a pity that they don't see you as I do. Your fire and your pain. Your innocence and your strength. I craved you the moment I set eyes upon you, my sweet redhead. I still crave you."

          It was then, that night, it all begin. Angelus' seduction of Willow and her own surrendering to it. His toying with Buffy and her own self-loathing for not having the strength to destroy him. Angelus thrived on the pain he caused the Slayer and the wedge he had placed between her and Willow. She belonged to Angelus, he had made his claim clear, and as hard as she tried Willow couldn't let him go. He was the enemy and he was manipulative and sadistic but only he lavished Willow with the attention and affection she had always desired.

          "You okay Wills?" Buffy asked absentmindedly.

          For weeks Willow had been pushed further and further into the background by her friends. Ignored unless she was needed – when they wanted to go to the Bronze Willow was slammed with research, alone; when they needed a document from a secured database they forced her in front of the computer and demanded she cracked the system; when they had homework that needed to be finished they tossed it down in front of her, mumbling a thanks as they turned and walked away.

          Willow was tired of it.

          "No," she responded to Buffy. "I think I'm sprouting a second head."

          "Uh-huh. Well, that's nice."

          Pushing herself to her feet and knocking her chair to the floor Willow shouted, "God, that's it." Buffy and the others looked at her in shock. "I'm tired of being everyone's doormat. I'm tried of being ignored except when you need someone to dump all your crap on. What exactly am I to you guys? A handy researcher? A speedy hacker? A nice-punching bag? I sure as hell can't be a friend since you only notice me when you need something." No one answered the enraged redhead. "That's what I thought." Collecting her things Willow towards the library doors. "All I want to know is why? Why did I start meaning less to you?"

          In her room that night Willow cried out all her anger and regret and grief. She Cried for hours, until she had no tears left to she and could do nothing but lie and stare up at the ceiling. They had abandoned her and she felt empty.

          "What the hell have they done to you?"

          She didn't move as Angelus sat beside her, gently caressing her cheek. "Nothing. They did absolutely nothing and that's what hurts so much."

          "You're better then them."

          Tears started to flow from her eyes again and she didn't bother to wipe them away. "Am I? Or are they better then me?"

          Gripping her chin roughly, eliciting a gasp of pain from her, Angelus forced Willow's eyes to meet his. "Don't you even talk like that again, understood?" Willow nodded mutely. "They ignore you and use you Willow and you still stand at their side while they never so much as flinch to leave you standing alone. I've seen them, Willow. Seen the way they treat you and the way you never fight back. Does it make them stronger to gang up on you, who are so often defenseless against them? Or does it make them weaker?"


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

          "Alright, I understand. Get in touch with me, though, when you find something, okay?"

          Running her fingers through her hair Willow let out a breath, tossing her cell phone onto her bag beside the door. Intel, which had been keeping strict surveillance on Dé'sa, had somehow managed to, well, lose track of him. One minute he showed clear as day on the radar system the next minute he had vanished and it had been close to four hours since their last signal. Willow was starting to worry.

          Dropping down into the plush chair beside her Willow sighed, resting her head in her hands. Hearing the door open she looked up and tried to smile at Drusilla who bent down, picking up Willows cell phone which had started ringing, again, and tossed it to the redhead.

          "Rosenberg."

          "Commander," a woman's voice responded. "You CI Guard Team has just touched down and should be arriving within the hour."

          "Thank you."

          Tucking the small phone into one of the pockets on her belt Willow stood. Moving to her bag she pulled out a manila folder and flipped through the papers until finding what she was searching for.

          "Who was on the phone, red?"

          "Huh?" Dru laughed and repeated the question. "Oh, um, HQ. The Guard squad just landed."

          "Fabulous. They have all the equipment?"

          "That's what I'm going to check," Willow waved the piece of paper she was holding, dialing a number on her phone.

          Spike came in half way through Willow's conversation and she shoed him away when he tried to kiss her. Settling onto the bed, beside Drusilla, the two chatted quietly while Willow spoke, annoyed, to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Things obviously weren't going as planned by the Commander and the leader of the Guard squad – whom Spike and Dru assumed was the person Willow was talking to – was on the receiving end of her frustration and, well, had his ass chewed by the redhead.

          "I don't give a flying shit what Bruckheim told you," Willow was saying. "I told you to bring a dozen bloody tranquilizer guns, not a dozen sodding stun-guns that wouldn't even bite your fragile, spineless ass." Spike and Dru looked at each other, grinning at Willow's use of British swear words. "No, no. Oh, stop whining like a fucking baby and listen to me. Get on the phone to Bruckheim and tell him, yes _tell_him to fly over my damn tranq guns along with every other piece of equipment he refused to send with you. What? Oh, hell, never mind you're too much of wanker to give orders anyway. I'll do it myself."

          Willow wanted to scream. She was working with a bunch of idiots. Glancing at Spike and Dru who were still grinning she flopped down between the two, resting her head in Dru's lap. Lacing her finger's through Spike's Willow pressed her lips to his hand softly. Spike smile down at her, kissing her forehead.

          "How are you holding up, love?"

          Willow shrugged. "I don't know if I can do this, Spike."

          "Of course you can," he encouraged.

          "I've dealt with a lot over the years but I just don't know if I can handle _them_."

          "They were your friends,' Dru said, "once upon a time and as many times as you say you've moved beyond your past I know that you haven't and that's understandable. What they did to you was, was horrible and no one could blame you if you hold this grudge the rest of your life but they're your past, love and the past isn't so easy to forget. Trust me."

          "I think," Willow smiled, "that I liked you better insane. At least you would have given me some half-decent words of advice like, 'kill them all'."

          Spike and Dru laughed. "Oh, don't say such things, pet. Dru was a handful when she was raving."

          "Shut up," Drusilla retorted.

          The CI Guard squad, a 3rd Division Infantry Team, arrived when they were scheduled and reported directly to Willow. Agent Denzure, the squad leader whom Willow had spoken with early, was eyed wearily by the redhead and snapped-to when he was ordered to transport the equipment to base camp – an old, abandoned mansion which, as it turned out, was the same mansion in which Buffy had hidden Angel after he first returned from hell.

          Grumbling, the Scooby's followed Willow's instructions and, after packing a bag, met up at the mansion. Buffy, as expected, was adamant in _not_wanting to stay there for obvious reasons. Willow, however, was not in the mood and to Buffy, quite frankly, to shut her mouth and do as she was told or find herself quickly chained to the wall. Nor were any of the Sunnydale gang thrilled about having to sleep in cages – which were made of a near-indestructible demon metal – but they simply complained amongst themselves, fearful of Willow's quick temper.

          "I hate this," Buffy whined four days after the CI agents arrival. She sat, quite uncomfortable, in a cold chair wearing a flimsy hospital gown while a not-so-tender-handed woman poked and prodded at her.

          Another of Willow's orders: full, daily check-ups to chart the progress and effects Dé'sa's magic was creating upon the Scooby's both mentally and physically. Blood was drawn and skin samples taken; pupils were dilated and tested for consistency; psychiatric tests were performed and scans, much like an MRI, were administered to track the progression of subconscious deterioration due to spells and curses.

          "I feel like a criminal in prison," Xander muttered to Oz.

          "I feel like an animal locked in a cage," Oz responded.

          "And you acting like children in the corner," Willow noted. Both men started, unaware of her presence behind them. "Breakfast is ready."

          "They hare me," Willow complained to Spike and Drusilla.

          "Maybe," Spike answered her. "But  if they do its misplaced hatred, Wills."

          Willow looked at him skeptically. "How?"

          "What you're doing for them could very well save their lives and if their too proud to see that you have only their best interests at heart then I say screw them all."

          Dru snickered. "Spike, if it were up to you Willow and I would have already screwed the entire world a hundred times over."

          "And possibly," Willow added, "the populations of a few dozen other dimensions."

          "Well," Spike shrugged, "whatever makes my girls happy…"

          "Spike!"


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

          "Bruckheim, here."

          "Oh, you've got some goddamned nerve."

          "Rosenberg?"

          "Who the hell else would it be?"

          There was pause on the other end and Willow heard the CI head shifting around in his chair. For five days he'd been avoiding her calls, though he'd never admit to it. Her tranquilizer guns had never arrived and every time she tried to contact her superior and demand to know where they were he had 'conveniently' stepped out of the office or turned off his cell phone. Finally, though, his secretary, a lovely woman by the name Elizabeth, took pity on the redhead – knowing full well how stubborn her boss can be – and patched Willow through to his office.

          "Um how – "   

          "Did I get through?" Another pause on the other end. "Let's just call it luck."

          "Right. So, what can I do you for you, Pioneer?"

          "Oh, stop with the official crap already, Edward."

          Willow didn't know of another agent, or Council employee, that referred to the head of CI as anything other than 'sir', or 'Mr. Bruckheim' – even those of his equal or greater rank rarely called him by his first name. But Willow was different. She and Bruckheim had had quite an intimate and involved affair.

          After leaving Sunnydale Willow, who had developed over the years, through Giles, a correspondence with various employees of the Watcher's Council, decided to settle in London where she took a job in the Watcher's Library researching. Only months after arriving the redhead was approached by Bruckheim and offered a place in his division: Council Infantry. Willow was, Bruckheim explained, well known through out the Council for having worked alongside the Slayer and he thought her better suited to 'field work' rather than book work.

          Willow agreed immediately and by the following year she had completed all prerequisite training courses and received her first assignment. When she returned Bruckheim, who had taken the young redhead under his wing and become a mentor to her, took her to dinner to celebrate. The affair began that night and from the beginning it was intense and possessive. Watchers and agents alike felt the sparks between Willow and Bruckheim. It lasted a year and half and ended when Bruckheim proposed to the young agent. Willow wasn't ready for marriage and that kind of commitment and Bruckheim, to his credit, was understanding. They parted on solid terms and Willow was even, nearly three years later, a bridesmaid for Bruckheim's wife at their wedding.

          "Willow, please – "

          "Please nothing, Eddie. I filled out all the necessary forms before we left and I even asked you directly for the tranqs, which you agreed to send with the 3-D squad. Now I want to know where the hell are my guns?"

          "Wills, it's not that simple – "

          "It's exactly that simple," Willow was starting to really lose her control. "You know the situation as well as I do and unless you want me to use bullets to take one of them down if Dé'sa decides to play with their limbs and threaten one of my team, you had better have my tranquilizer guns on the next flight out or you will deal with me personally."

          Bruckheim sighed. "Goddamn Rosenberg, you are a persistent little thing, aren't you?"

          Willow smiled. "Aye, sir. That I am."

          "Alright," he relented, "on the next flight out."

          "Now was that so hard, Eddie?"

          "Goodnight, Willow."

          "Oh, and tell your wife I said 'hi'."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

          Willow had been on the phone all morning and most of the afternoon. The list of individuals whom she'd spoken with was staggering and, since she had yet to receive the answers she was looking for, was still growing. The others, the Scooby's as well as Spike, Dru and the Guard squad, had found their entertainment that day in watching the frustrated redhead pace back and forth. Occasionally Willow would pause in her steps and roll her eyes or take a deep breath. At other times those around her ducked down, fearful they may be hit by one of the numerous objects being thrown by the Commander. A couple of times Willow even screamed and came close to slamming her phone against the wall – Spike or Drusilla always managed to pry the small device from her fingers, though.

          Buffy and the Sunnydale gang found it amusing, at times, and felt pity for whoever was on the receiving end of Willow's rage. Giles found it fascinating that Willow slipped into a number of demon dialects throughout the course of the day and, understanding fractions of the languages she used, the Watcher blushed a few times in hearing some of the colorful wording Willow used.

          "Do I sound like I'm bloody well joking?" Willow's tone was dangerously low and the others, unbeknownst to each other, were all thinking the same thing: whoever Willow was talking to was skating extremely thin ice. "I've already spoken to them. Yes, and them as well. Oh, I know, apparently I've spoken with every goddamn Watcher in the Council as well as every little twit they employ and I still haven't gotten an answer. No, no, no, I don't want to hear this Council bullshit. All I want to hear from you is a yes or a no. Can you handle that, or is it too complicated for you?" There was a long pause then Willow groaned, slamming her phone shut and throwing it across the room – Spike managed to catch it, though, before it shattered against the floor.

          "Bad news, ducks?"

          Willow glared at Spike, who abruptly stopped his approach towards her and stepped back a few feet. "How the hell does one completely loose track of an extremely powerful shaman for an entire bloody week?"

          "Because they're pricks?"

          Willow smiled at Dru's response. "You're telling me," she sighed taking Spike's hand and sliding down between him and Dru on the couch – the other's still silent throughout the room.

          It was the first time since they'd arrived that Spike and Dru had spent any length of time in the same room as the Scooby's and, though Willow hadn't noticed, her old friends were obviously, and understandably, confused and baffled by their presence. Opening her eyes Willow saw the hesitant glances they were tossing towards her two companions and sat up.

          "What's going on?"

          The Scooby's started, their heads snapping forward. "What do you mean?" Xander responded.

          Willow raised a questioning eyebrow. "Don't play stupid, Xander."

          The Scooby's exchanged glances but it was Oz that spoke, "Why isn't she, you know – "

          "Raving like a lunatic?" Dru offered, smiling. They all nodded and Dru answered, "Because I'm not a lunatic."

          "Dru's been sane for a good five years and working for the CI for, oh about four."

          "How?"

          "The Council," Drusilla explained. "I was captured not long after Spike and I got the Brazil."

          "After Buffy sent her precious Angel spiraling into hell," Spike clarified solely to get a rise out of the Slayer.

          "They did a quick little procedure," Dru continued, "and less then a month later I was certifiably sane."

          Removing his glasses Giles leaned forward in his chair. "A, a procedure?" 

          Dru nodded. "Yeah, but I haven't the slightest idea what it was. Intel's not especially forthcoming when it comes to that sort of information, which is understandable since if the procedure could make me sane it could also very easily make me, or anyone for that matter, insane."

          Feeling around in his pockets Spike pulled out a box of cigarettes but, knowing Willow hated the smell of them, stood and walked over to the terrace doors, into the afternoon sunlight. Lighting and taking a long drag he turned back to the others, the Sunnydale gang gawking openmouthed.

          "Does anyone else see Spike standing in the sun _not_ exploding into flames and ash?"

          "Oh, that," Dru laughed, moving to stand at Spike's side. "We've been here for a here for a week and you guys are just now noticing this? Gee, don't I feel safe knowing you're guarding a Hellmouth."

          "Feel like explaining?" Cordelia demanded.

          Spike shrugged. "One of the perks of humanity."

          Giles nearly fell out of his chair. "Humanity?" he coked out. "Spike and Drusilla are _human_?"

          "Part human," Willow answered. "Still part demon, too."

          "And, and you…?"

          Willow smiled. "Are part demon as well, though it's not like any of us had a choice in the matter."

          Oz shook his head slightly. "What do you mean, you didn't have a choice?"

          Sighing, Willow said, "It's really not such an interesting story."

          "Why don't you let us be the judge of that," Buffy's tone was sharp and Willow relented, sighing again.

          "Just after Dru was given back her sanity," the redhead began, "the Council picked up Spike somewhere in Italy, he was raving almost as madly as Dru used to."

          "Had a bit of an encounter with a demon," Spike explained. "Pissed him off and he turned me loony."

          "So," Willow continued, "the Council performed the same procedure they did with Dru which, I should probably explain, the Intel med's tweaked for both cases to restore at bit of their, well, conscience."

          "Are you telling me they have their souls?" Buffy snapped.

          "Not exactly," Willow said. "It's hard to explain but in effect they have a _part_ of their soul. The part that determines moral right and wrong."

          "I don't understand, how can they have only part of a soul?"

          Willow turned to Giles. "Okay. We all that when a vampire is turned its soul is forced out of the body so that the demon can take control, right?" There were nods of understanding. "We also know that a vampire's demon is, by our standards and our standards alone, solely evil, incapable of judging any sort of _moral_ right and wrong and that's not to say they don't know the difference between the two, quite the contrary actually, but what they perceive as right and just is, by our standards, cruel and inhuman. Follow me so far?" Again, they nodded. "Now this you may not know but a soul is made up of parts, sections, all fitting together in a sort of puzzle to make up a specific arrangement befitting only _one_ individual and after that individual dies their soul breaks apart, each section going in search of different ones to fit together and create a completely new and unique soul designed for only _one_ specific individual."

          "But what about Angel?" Cordelia questioned.

          Willow smiled. "Angel was a unique case. He's a Champion, chosen by the Powers That Be and offered a chance at redemption. Angel's original soul was returned to him intact," directing her gaze to Buffy she added, "both times. But don't even ask how it was pulled off because the answer is so incredibly complicated it'd take about a week to explain it all, plus, well, none of you have the clearance to be told anyway."

          "Anyway," Dru interrupted."

          "Oh, right. Back to the point," Willow answered. "About four years ago Spike and Drusilla were placed under my command, thus creating Team Songbird, and our first assignment was a basic, by-the-book retrieval."

          "What were you retrieving?" Giles asked.

          "Oh, um, some Orb of something-or-other, I don't really remember. But, like I was saying we were sent on assignment – "

          "In Berlin – " Dru added.

          "Ran in to the Orb's owner – "

          "A bloody ugly demon," Spike put it.

          "We killed the demon which, apparently, had the last laugh and before he died managed a little spell, thus our part-human, part-demon situation which, really isn't so bad I mean, we're practically impossible to kill and the demon strength has come in handy in the past."

          The Scooby's starred at Willow as though she'd suddenly sprouted another head.

          "What?"


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

**Sunnydale: March, 1998**

          He came to her every night and she never refused him. In her dreams he haunted her, always pursuing and possessing. Willow never tried to ignore what he was, what he had done, what he was capable of doing. Angelus was the cruelest of his kind and Willow wouldn't fool herself into believing she was any different then his other victims, but at the same time she knew she was. With as much ease as lifting a feather Angelus could take her life and take as much joy in it as Willow did in watching the sunrise – but he wouldn't; he didn't want to.

          But still did she hate him because his mind was bent so strongly towards the Slayer. Angel had loved Buffy, made him feel like a human being and, like Angelus had once said himself, that's not something you forget. Willow hated how his thoughts always turned from her to Buffy. She hated that Angelus could make her feel so foolish and used. He was evil. What right did he have to make her _feel_? But he did make her feel and Willow could never forget _that_.

          "It's always, Buffy," she spoke one night, knowing he stood outside her room in shadows. "You're just like them. Buffy is the center of your universe. Why does everyone love her so much and ignore me?"

          "_Angel_ loved Buffy," Angelus spoke severely. "Never confuse me with him," he threatened.

          Turning her head Willow met his eyes and asked defiantly, "Why not? You and Angel have one big thing in common: you entire existence depends on Buffy. That makes you just like Angel in my book."

          The blow came so quick Willow wasn't sure what had happened until she felt Angelus' weight above her, his finger wrapped painfully around her wrists. Amber eyes starred into green; demon into human. Angelus was so close to her that Willow could have felt his breath upon her neck. Starring into her eyes, however, Angelus glimpsed something that made him ease his grip.

          "You want me to kill you." It was a statement, not a question.

          "So what if I do?" Willow's voice was still defiant as she shoved him away from her. "It wouldn't matter. No one would even care, or notice for that matter. They're all too busy comforting the heartbroken Slayer and she, she's too busy trying to convince herself she's not in love with you. And you," she spat. "You're still thinking only of _her_. It's always her. I'm unimportant. Insignificant. So go ahead, do it and rid the world of one more useless person."

          Sitting back Angelus let his human visage surface once more. "I never would have thought you stupid, Willow. But apparently I was wrong because you're acting like a spoiled child. Why do you care what they think of you? Honestly, why do you care about the opinions of people who don't even seen the obvious pain your in? People who are supposed to be your friends. People who turn their backs to you when you need them most. Do you really give a damn what they think of you?"

          Lowering her eyes Willow shook her head. "No."

          Brushing his fingertips across her cheeks Angelus wiped away her tears. "Really? Because I don't believe you."

          Her defiance roared again and Willow lifted her head to meet his eyes. "I really don't give a damn, Angelus, whether you believe me or not because – "

          "Because what," Angelus urged.

          "You're the worst," she whispered. "Of everyone you're the worst. My whole life I've been pushed aside by my friends and my family and I've pretty much learned to deal with it but, but you," Willow paused fighting to keep her eyes on his. "I actually give a damn what you think of me and I hate it. I hate needing you to want me just so I can feel _anything_. I hate hurting because you're obsessed with _her_. But most of all I hate knowing what you are, what you've done, and still craving you."

          "Angel? How did you get in here?"

          Grinning, Angelus stepped towards Jenny Calendar who stood behind her desk. "I was invited," he answered. "The sign in the front of the school: 'Formatia trans sicere educatorum."

          Jenny Calendar swallowed. "Enter all ye who seek knowledge."

          "What can I say," Angelus moved closer. "I'm a knowledge seeker."

          "Angel," Jenny spoke desperately, knowing her life in danger. "I've got some good news."

          "I heard. You went shopping at the local boogedy-boogedy store," he said while lifting an object from Jenny Calendar's desk. "The Orb of Thesulah. If memory serves, this is supposed to summon a person's soul and store it until it can be transferred." Spinning it in his hand he sighed dramatically saying, "You know what I hate most about these things? They're so damn fragile." Jenny Calendar jumped as the orb shattered against the floor. 

Running his hand over the computer monitor Angelus spoke again, "I never cease to be amazed how much the world has changed in just two and a half centuries. It's a miracle to me. You, you put the secrets to restoring my soul in here," shoving the monitor to the floor, watching it start to burn for a moment, Angelus pulled a sheet of paper from the printer. "The Ritual of Restoration. Wow, this brings back memory."

"Wait," Jenny Calendar starts, watching Angelus shred the piece of paper. "That's your – "

"Cure? Yeah, no thanks. Been there, done that and déjà vu just isn't what it used to be," he was grinning again watching Jenny Calendar back away towards the door. "Isn't this my lucky day? The computer and the pages. Looks like I got to kill two birds with one stone, and teacher makes three."

Jenny Calendar ran. Angelus pursued. Her attempt to escape was a vain one, but Jenny Calendar was persistent. Persistence, however, would not save her. "Sorry, Jenny," Angelus said after finally cornering her, "this is where you get off."

She fell lifeless to the ground, the echo of bone snapping still lingering in the air. 

Giles found her body, in his own bed, placed there by Angelus. Jenny Calendar had been loved deeply by the Watcher and in seeing her broken body Giles'  rage hit its peak and he decided to go on the hunt.

By the time the Scooby's arrived at Giles' apartment he was gone and not, as Willow noted, without help, "Look, all his weapons are gone."

"Where is he?" Cordelia asked, eyeing the empty weapons chest.

Buffy's face was stone. "He'll go where ever Angel is."

"That means the factory," Willow muttered, speaking to herself though the others heard her clear enough.

It was Cordelia that asked the question no one else would, "So, Giles is going to try and kill Angel?"

"About time somebody did," Xander hissed.

Willow was horrified. "Xander."

"I'm sorry, but let's not forget that I hated Angel long before you guys jumped on the bandwagon. So I think I deserve a little something for not saying 'I told you so' long before now. And if Giles wants to go after the fiend that murdered his girlfriend, I say, 'Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!'"

"You're right," Buffy whispered. "There's only one thing wrong with Giles' little revenge scenario."

"What?"

"It's going to get him killed."

Giles had struck a hard blow to Angelus, burning down the factory, but in the end it nearly cost him his life and Buffy was forced to face the truth: Angel was gone.

          Lying in her room that night, terrified of falling asleep and still more so of staying awake, Willow thought of words Angelus had once spoke to her, words that explained how Willow could hate Angelus to her very core and still crave him; words that explained how Buffy could still hold so strongly to her hope that Angel would come back to her; words that explained it all:

_"Passion, it lies in all of us. Sleeping. Waiting. And though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir, open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments: the joy of love, the clarity of hatred and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we would know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we would be truly dead."_


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

          Willow was pacing her office anxiously, checking her watch every ten seconds and groaning. Hearing a car pull into the mansion drive, followed by a door slamming shut, Willow stopped dead in her tracks, lifting her head. Footsteps on the gravel path stopped for a moment and the redhead heard the mansion doors swing open. Another pause. Bouncing shut the heavy doors creaked and a suitcase was dropped atop the floor. Muffled voices filtered into her office and Willow turned as her door opened.

          "She's here," Drusilla smiled.

          Rushing past her dark haired friend Willow hurried through the mansion corridors, down the stairs, through the open kitchen, under the arched doorway leading to the terrace and onto the terrace itself. Five cages sat side-by-side encircled by 3rd Division agents holding tranquilizer guns. As Willow entered the 3-D squad hopped to attention, saluting their ranking agent. Waving them away Willow looked quickly about the room. Buffy, Xander, Giles, Oz, Cordelia…

          "Willow!"

          Spinning around the redhead was enveloped in the arms of another young redhead. Stumbling Willow toppled into a chair behind her, taking the other girl with her. Laughing Willow returned the embrace, pushing away only when breathing became an issue.

          Smiling at the girl Willow asked, "What are you doing here? I told you I was going to pick you up from airport."

          Sheepishly the redhead grinned and responded in a light British accent, "I know but my flight came in early and it was quicker just for me to take a cab."

          Brushing a lock of curly hair from the girl's forehead Willow sighed, "I suppose you're right."

          "Of course I am."

          Laughing, Willow asked, "So how was London?"

          "Exactly the same as it was when I left."

          Giles cleared his throat and the two redheads looked up, suddenly remembering that there were other's in the room. Standing to her feet the younger girl straightened her tee-shirt and tucked her shoulder-length hair behind her ears, honey-colored eyes glancing between the Watcher and Willow. "I'm assuming, Willow, that you're acquainted with Hope. The Slayer."

          Lacing her finger's through Hope's Willow responded, "Of course. I helped train her."

          "Helped train her?"

          Rolling her eyes Willow exchanged a look with Hope before answering, "I don't believe I stuttered, Cordelia."

          "Hope was orphaned as a young child," Drusilla stepped onto the terrace and was immediately bombarded by Hope's strong arms. Returning the embrace and placing a kiss on the young Slayer's brow she continued, "As a Potential she was taken into the Council's care and raised, logically, as a Slayer alongside a few dozen other girls also orphaned or given willingly to the Council by their families."

          "When she was eleven Hope was placed under my guidance," Willow said.

          Shaking her head Buffy asked, "Why?"

          "Among other things," Spike appeared beside Dru and was not sparred the redheaded Slayer's affection, "Willow is a leading authority on demons within the Watcher's Council."

          "Makes sense," Buffy said. "Willow always was the go-to girl when it came to demons and whatnot. Other than Giles, I mean," she added seeing the glare the Watcher directed at her.

          "Because of that," Spike continued, "and her experience on a Hellmouth Willow was appointed Director of the Novice Academy Demon Studies, the DNADS, where she taught courses dealing with the history, anatomy, language and dimensions of hundreds of demons."

          Buffy rolled her eyes. "Sounds fun," her tone was thickly sarcastic.

          "Exactly the attitude of most Potentials," Willow frowned. "Who cares where a demon comes from if you kick its ass, right?" It was a rhetorical question and no answered. "You were lucky, Buffy to have people to research for you and tell you how, or how not, to slay a demon but what if you'd been alone and one night found yourself face to face with a K'tack demon, what would you do? Seeing as they stand a good two inches shorter then you you'd probably go straight for decapitation, right? You'd regret it immediately seeing as the blood of a K'tack demon is extremely acidic and would easily melt the flesh from you're bones before you even had time to register what was happening. But Hope, because she studied the anatomy of the K'tack demon, knows how to dispose of that particular species."

          Grinning at her mentor Hope answered, "The malformed appendage beneath its left arm. That's the only area of a K'tack's body which lacks blood flow because it's actually a sack, separate from the body's circulatory system and containing the demon's main organ of life – it's heart, so to speak. Once detached from the body the sack withers and the demon will, in effect, suffocate to death."

          "Good, girl," Willow winked at Hope before turning her attention back to the Scooby's. "As you can see, Hope was different from the other Potentials. She _wanted_ to learn where a demon came from and how to find its heart as well as how to kill it and because of that interest she and I were never often from each others' side."

          "And because of _that_," Dru added, "Head Watcher Travers assigned Willow as Hope's sole instructor in both study and defense alongside a handful of other girls likewise interested as Hope."

          "So I'm assuming," Xander spoke, "that you knew of the Council's plans to retire Buffy?"

          Willow smiled. "Oh, we knew. It was the least that Buffy deserved and I was a strong advocate in seeing it pass." Meeting Buffy's eyes Willow continued, "Buffy lived almost nine years as the Slayer where the average Slayer lifespan is less than two and no Slayer in history has _ever_ survived beyond four. Buffy was the greatest Slayer in Council history and retirement was the very least they owed her."

          Buffy returned Willow smile. Despite their past Willow would never argue against Buffy's incredible success as Slayer nor her claim to being the greatest. It was true and Willow admired Buffy for it.

          "Yeah," Xander grinned proudly. "First time the Council's had to actually _retire_ a Slayer. I never even knew they could do that.

          "Technically they can't," Willow responded. "Buffy _is_ still a Slayer and she still has all her Slayer abilities but she's no longer part of the Slayer Line so when she dies another Slayer won't be called to take her place because Hope is the Slayer now, not Buffy."

          "Then how…?"

          Willow grinned at Xander. "Since Buffy didn't die it was up to the Council to choose the Potential best suited to take up the Slayer reins which, let me tell you, is no easy task, especially since they had to communicate directly with the Powers That Be and get permission to do such a thing and then they had to actually _choose_ the girl."

          "That was fun," Dru said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Evaluating thousands of Potentials and deciding upon _one_. It's enough to turn your hair gray."

          Intrigued, Giles asked, "You three had a voice in the matter?"

          "Naturally," Spike responded. "We are the Council's top Team and Willow _is_ in charge of Potential Training and Instruction."

          "It took months of debate," Willow resumed. "But, finally, it came down to two girls and we chose Hope."


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

An ear piercing howl echoed throughout the mansion. A shrill, banshee scream rose into the air. A cry of rage pounded against the walls. A deafening shriek reverberated through the air. A chilling symphony of raw, animalistic calls spiraling into the air and blending together.

          Willow was on her feet immediately and rushing towards the mansion's front terrace balcony. Spike and Drusilla were only steps behind the redhead and the 3rd Division squad leader met the threesome halfway to the terrace.

          "What the hell is that?" Willow snapped.

          "The subjects, ma'am," the squad leader answered. "Four of them at least."

          Drusilla eyed the leader and asked, "Four? There are five subjects."

          "Yes, ma'am, but the Watcher seems unaffected by whatever is bringing on this, this episode."

          Nodding curtly to the squad leader, dismissing him, Willow stepped through the open terrace doors and stopped short. Oz had transformed into his werewolf visage, regardless of the fact that the full moon wasn't for another week and a half, and stood howling and clawing at the bars of his cage. Cordelia kneeled in the corner of her cage, ripping at her hair, screaming like a banshee. Xander was throwing himself against the bars, crying out in rage and Buffy stood pressed against the bars of her cage, bloody nail marks across her arms and face, shrieking at an inhuman pitch. Poor Giles cowered in his cage, clutching at his ears trying to drive the sound away.

          "Release him," Willow barked. "He's in shock," she sighed, shaking her head. "Take him to sick bay and have the medic check him out."

          Gripping Giles on both sides two agents nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

          "Would you please shut them up?"

          "You heard Commander Rosenberg," the squad leader shouted picking up a tranquilizer gun from a case at his feet. "Let's put them to sleep."

          Eight gun shots echoed one after the other and the four in cages yelped and whined as the darts pierced their skin then collapsed to the ground, completely unconscious.

          Sighing, Willow shook her head trying to get her full hearing back. "Thank god," she muttered.

          "No bloody kidding," Spike smacked the side of his head.

          "Everyone okay?" Willow asked, facing the 3-D squad team. There were muttered responses as the men tried to stop the ringing in their heads. "Take the rest of the night off they're not going anywhere," Willow said. "And I want all of you go see the medic before turning in. That's an order 3rd Division."

          "Yes, ma'am," twelve men saluted before filling from the terrace balcony.

          Hope shuffled from her room, rubbing her eyes and shaking the ringing sound from her ears. "What's going on? Sounds like a bloody B-movie horror flick out here."

          Smiling, Willow tucked a strand of the young Slayer's hair behind her ears. "Just another Shaman attack," she said. "Nothing to worry yourself over."

          Peering over the redhead's shoulder Hope's jaw dropped opened. "You tranquilized them?"

          "Had to love," Spike responded.

          "Boy," Hope grinned, "are they going to be angry in the morning."

          "Which is why we have them in cages," Drusilla commented.

          "Go back the bed, sweetie," Willow instructed Hope.

          The next morning Cordelia, Oz, Xander and Buffy awoke with immense headaches and sore limbs, not to mention the tender spots of their bodies where the tranquilizer darts struck. Groggy, and grumpy, the four Scooby's demanded to know what had happened and Willow obligingly told them.

          When she was finished Willow was glad she'd decided not to release them right away because the four caged individuals were furious that Willow had actually shot them and didn't seem to carry the slightest hint of guilt in doing so. After ordering one of the 3rd Division squad agents to find some proper attire for Oz, who was suffering from a slight case of nudity seeing as his transformation had shredded his clothing, Willow turned on her heels and left the enraged Scooby's to scream out their frustration.

          "How are you feeling?"

          Groaning slightly at the pounding in his head Giles pushed himself into a sitting position. "Like I've been hit by bus."

          "Then feel lucky because most hit by RM report excruciating pains much like being burned from the inside out."

          Giles looked puzzled for a moment. "RM?"

          "Residual Magic"

          "Oh." Looking around his face grew even more puzzled. "Where am I?"

          "Med Quarters," Willow answered placing in Giles' hand a couple of pills to relieve his pain. "Take these," she said handing him a glass of water. When he had swallowed the pills Willow explained, "The shaman hit again last night, as I'm sure you're aware."

          "Unfortunately."

          "If last nights activity proves anything it's that you're not a target, which does answer quite a few of the questions I have."

          "How so?"

          "According to every test we've given the five of you your tests always came back negative for subconscious deterioration and I had begun to suspect that you weren't a target but I couldn't be sure. Not until last night, at any rate."

          Nodding, Giles asked, "Not that I'm complaining but _why_ aren't I a target?"

          Willow shrugged. "Honestly, I haven't the slightest clue. The Council is under the assumption that the Alliance is targeting Hope but," Willow smiled to herself, "they can't touch her. Not directly."

          "Why?"

          "When Hope first came under my guidance I knew that she was destined to something great, whether it meant Slayer or Agent or Watcher, but I also knew she would be pursued because of that. Just like I am. Enemies, demon and human alike, would look to destroy her because they would see she was a threat."

          "Understandable."

          "So I cast a Barrier of Protection around Hope. So long as I live she will be protected against magical attack. Nothing or no one of any dimension will ever pose a threat to Hope in any way magical."

          For the first time since she'd arrived Willow saw Giles smile. "You always did think of others first, Willow."

          Attempting to return the smile Willow's face fell instead as she responded, "And we can see where that got me."

          "So I'm assuming," Giles quickly moved the conversation, "that this Demon Alliance is attempting to kill Hope via her guardians."

          Nodding, Willow sighed. "But it's only a matter of time before they realize their current attempt has been thwarted and switch directions. There are other ways to kill a Slayer."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

          Sipping her mug of coffee Willow turned the page of the Council Report she was reading and jotted down a few notes on the notebook beside her. Sighing, she set down the mug and adjusted her position in the chair, pulling one leg under her body and resting her cheek on her hand. Glancing at the clock on the wall Willow saw it just past six in the morning and she had yet to sleep a wink in the past 48 hours. Yawning she shut the folder, pushing it aside, and opened another.

          "Commander," a blonde-headed 3-D agent came scurrying into Willow's office, stopping several feet in front of her and saluting.

          Without lifting her eyes Willow responded, "What is it, Younger?"

          Frantically the young agent answered, "It's Denzure, ma'am."

          Hearing the squad leader's name caught Willow's attention and she rose to her feet. "What's happened?"

          "I don't know, ma'am," Younger said leading Willow quickly towards sick bay. "He was complaining of a headache an hour ago so he went to see the Doc and the last I saw of him he was sprawled out on one of the medic couches drugged up all ways to Sunday with some sleeping med but just two minutes ago he sprang up like a hound out of hell and – "

          Lifting her hand Willow silence the young agent as they reached the Med Quarters. Squad leader Denzure was trashing the medic lounge, roaring like a beast and lashing out at the agents attempting to sedate him. Bloody nail marks colored his chest, where he had ripped the material of her shirt, and the palms of his hands. "Where's Hope?"

          Agent Younger shrugged. "I don't know, ma'am."

          "Find her," Willow barked, sending the fretful agent scurrying away.

          Stepping into the windowless room Willow approached, slowly, only a few steps not wanting the crazed man to notice her. Watching him she took note that his movements were stiff, programmed almost, and though his head thrashed from one side to another his eyes remained oddly focused straight before him as though he were dreaming. The Council Commander recognized the symptoms immediately and swore under her breath.

          Crouching under his desk the Doc clutched his knees to his chest, trembling, terrified eyes glued to the 3-D leader. Denzure's men, on the other hand, were trying, quite unsuccessfully, to corner the squad leader who was barring his teeth, growling, and slicing at the agents with an extremely sharp scalpel. All of the men were bleeding from at least one wound atop their arms or chest and most carried several oozing cuts. Willow counted three 3-D agents unconscious on the floor and   guessed it would take only minutes for the others to join them.

          "What the hell's going on in here?"

          Willow spun around quick as lightning and cupped her hand over Cordelia's mouth, hissing, "Shut up!"

          Too late.

          Squad leader Denzure had heard the ex-cheerleader shrill voice and his interests had obviously been peaked. Knocking two agents away from him with fluid movements Denzure eyed Willow, growling. Shoving Cordelia back into Buffy's arms, who was rushing towards sick bay followed by Oz and Xander, Willow shot them a warning glare. Heeding the redhead's look the four stopped dead in their tracks while Willow moved forward.

          Locking her eyes to Denzure's, knowing his distain for her would hold his anger solely upon her, Willow motioned to one of the 3-D agents standing near her. Shuffling slowly towards her the agent barely heard her whispered words, "Move the squad behind him and wait for my signal. Issue every agent a taser."

          "But wouldn't tranquilizers work better?"

          "We don't want to put him back to sleep, you fool," Willow snapped. "Now stop arguing, god damnit, and as I tell you."

          "Yes, ma'am," the agent nodded, moving to do as he was commanded as Willow held Denzure's focus by pacing slowly side-to-side.

          Denzure was beginning to foam at the mouth, a classic sign of Possession Burnout – an Infantry term used to describe the slacking strength of a shaman's link to his victim's subconscious. But, Willow also noted, the violet glow emitting from his eyes signaled that the Dé'sa was attempting to "up the stakes" – that is, transfer more of his own power into Denzure – which could very likely, Willow knew, kill the squad leader.

          As Denzure continued to growl and hiss at Willow she watched, from the corner of her eye, as the 3rd Division agents positioned themselves behind their leader. Glancing quickly over Denzure's shoulder and seeing the final agent lock-and-load Willow gave the signal: a soft robin's call.

          Denzure roared and collapsed to his knees as eight taser guns struck him in both sides. An electric hiss wafted through sick bay and sparks leapt about the squad leaders body but, eventually, Willow ordered the agents to pull away and Denzure fell forward, his head bouncing off the cement floor. Kneeling beside him Willow pressed her fingers to his neck and checked his pulse. He was still very much alive and awake but in momentary shock. Standing to her feet Willow gave orders for Denzure's care and instructed the Doc to perform a full check – like those he did daily on the Scooby's – and place his report in her hands by 1800 hours.

          "And keep him awake," Willow added just before stepping out of sick bay. "I want him quartered in the vacated cage until further notice and under no circumstances is he to be approached without orders from me. Do I make myself clear?"

          "Aye, Commander," the agents responded, saluting.

          "Willow," Hope pushed past agent Younger and into Willow's arms.

          Releasing a breath of relief Willow returned the embrace. "Oh, thank god."

          "What happened?"

          "Their fingers are stretching," Willow responded.

          Hopes face fell slightly. "This is my fault."

          "No," Willow said sternly. "It's _never_ your fault." Hope tried to smile but frowned instead. "Don't worry, sweetie, you know I'd never let anything happen to you."

          "I know that, Willow."

          "But," Willow sighed, "this means you're going to need constant guard." Hope nodded her understanding. "You're not to take so much as a step without Spike, Dru or myself at your side. Understood?"

          Hope nodded again and smile. "Roger that Pioneer."

          Willow laughed and tussled the young Slayer's hair. "Good girl."

          "Is everything okay?" Buffy asked.

          Lifting her eyes Willow saw her old friends looking at her with expressions of perplexity and, to her complete surprise, respect – though the latter was slight and hardly noticeable. "For now, but I'm not holding my breath here."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Sunnydale: April, 1998**      

          She found it.

          The disk.

          The translation.

          The curse.

          Starring at the screen Willow couldn't believe her eyes. On a yellow disk knocked behind Jenny Calendar's desk Willow had found the Rom Soul Restoration spell. Two weeks. The disk had sat tucked between the cabinet and the desk for two weeks – since the night Jenny Calendar was murdered by Angelus; since the night Giles tried to play the Lone Avenger and got himself nearly killed; since the night Buffy finally accepted that Angel was dead; since the night Willow realized no matter how much hatred she held for Angelus she could never refuse him.

          They had been studying, Buffy and Willow, when the frustrated Slayer dropped her pencil and found the disk. Handing it to Willow Buffy shrugged and watched the hacker pop the disk into the drive.

          "This feels kind of morbid," Buffy had observed while the disk loaded.

          "I've gone through most of her files already," Willow responded.

          "So, does that make this _less_ morbid or you _really_ morbid?"

          Sighing, Willow answered, "I had to, to teach her class."

          Buffy grinned. "Relax, Wills. I was making with the funny." Frowning, Buffy leaned closer to the screen, her mouth falling open. "Does, does that say 'Restoration'?"

          Shaking her head Willow responded absentmindedly, "It's one of her spells. Ms. Calendar wasn't a witch but she did dabble…"

          "Willow…"

          Swallowing, Willow mumbled, "Oh, boy."

          Giles.

          Both girls thought the same thing once realizing what, exactly, the disk held: take it to Giles. Collecting their things and shutting down the computer Willow and Buffy hurried from Jenny Calendar's room and aimed for the library. Giles, along with Xander and Cordelia, were there and all three looked up as the two girls entered. Buffy was on the verge of beaming – that disk, that spell could bring Angel back to her. Willow was on the verge of tears – that disk, that spell would take Angelus from her; take the one person who really saw her, really gave a damn about her. But it would bring Angel back – Angel who deserved to live and earn his redemption; Angel who hardly even noticed Willow's existence.

          Willow was torn.

          Hesitantly, absentmindedly wiping his glasses with the hem of his shirt, Giles asked, "What are you saying?"

          "The curse," Buffy breathed. "This is it."

          More to himself Giles responded, "She said it couldn't be done."

          "Well," Buffy responded, "she tried at least and it looks like it might have worked."

          "So he killed her before he could tell anyone," Xander said. "What a prince, huh?"

          Looking from one person to the next Cordelia asked, "This is good, right? I mean, now we can curse him again."

          "Well, um, it does seem to point that way," Giles answered. "But this ritual requires a greater knowledge of the black arts than I can claim."

          "I've been, um, researching the black arts, for fun," Willow spoke hesitantly. "Educational fun and I may be able to work this."

          "Willow," Buffy shook her head. "I don't want you putting yourself in any danger."

          "And I don't want danger," the redhead replied. "A big 'No' to danger, but I may be the best person to do this."

          Xander scoffed. "Um, for all those who just tuned in, everyone here is a crazy person. So this spell might restore Angel's humanity? Well, here's an interesting angle, who cares?"

          Buffy's face fell. "I care."

          Looking at Buffy Xander's tone was harsh, "Is that right?"

          "Now, lets not loose our perspective here, Xander," Giles spoke.

          "I'm Perspective Guy. Angel's a killer."

          "It's not that simple," Buffy retorted.

          Rolling his eyes Xander asked, "So, what? All is forgiven? I can't believe you people."

          "Curing Angel seems to have been Jenny's last wish," Giles attempted.

          "Yeah? Well Jenny's dead."

          With a quivering voice Buffy added, "What happened to Angel wasn't his fault."

          "But what happened to Ms. Calendar is," Xander returned. "You can paint this any way you want but the way I see it is that you want to forget about Ms. Calendar's murder so you can get your boyfriend back."

          Buffy went pale, her eyes watering, and fled the library. Willow scolded Xander, disbelieving he could be so cruel and followed the distraught Slayer. Xander huffed and, followed by Cordelia stormed out. Giles was left alone.

          Willow felt cold inside. Confused and scared and lost. Her body pleaded, begging her to destroy the curse and keep Angelus beside her. Her flesh still burned from his touch, her lips still tasted of his kiss. Willow craved his embrace and his affection but hated herself for it. Willow's mind lectured, telling her that Angel deserved his soul and his chance of redemption. Angelus was a monster and Angel wasn't. What Willow wanted wasn't important; what Buffy wanted or Xander or Giles, none of it mattered. What mattered was that Angelus needed to be destroyed and that Willow could do it – could bring Angel back.

          The problem: deep down she didn't want to.

          Collapsing onto her bed Willow cried – for Jenny, for Giles, for Buffy, for Angel but mainly for herself. She cried out her hatred and disgust; screamed her heartache and confusion.

          Lifting her head suddenly, the hair at her neck prickling, Willow frowned, speaking into the silence, "Why?" Hearing him step into her room she turned her head, meeting his eyes, "How could you?"

          Not since before Jenny Calendar's death had he come to her. Two weeks she had been without his touch and it disgusted her how empty she felt without it. "They have it."

          Soft. Angelus' voice was soft and his words whispered. Stunned by the lack of arrogance or cruelty in his tone Willow sat up and gasped. In his eyes Willow saw how lost he was; saw the openness of his heart. Rising to her feet she moved to him. Placing her hand on his cheek she kissed his lips softly and he wrapped the small redhead in his arms. Returning the embrace Willow placed a trailed of feather light kisses along Angelus' neck and jaw, pulling away far enough to look up into his eyes. 

          Something had frightened Angelus and knowing that frightened Willow.

          "Have what?" Searching his eyes Willow waited but he made no response. Cupping his face between her hands she kissed him again. "Angelus," she whispered. "Angelus snap out of it." It was no Willow who was worried, watching the blank stare in his eyes. Swallowing, hesitant in what she knew she must do, Willow spoke his name a third time and when he didn't respond she slapped him – hard across the cheek.

          Immediately his demon surfaced and his grip atop her arms was painful but in seeing the concern in her eyes Angelus took control and dropped his hands. "I'm sorry."

          "What happened," Willow almost pleaded. "Angelus please, you're scaring me."

          "I was in the library tonight," he spoke. "Up in the stacks. I was going to – "

          "Harass Buffy about Jenny's death," Willow offered.

          Nodding Angelus continued, "I heard Buffy and the Watcher talking. About my curse."

          Willow's heart stilled. That's what had him to frightened: the threat of being re-souled. Placing her hand atop his lips Willow silenced his words. "You're safe here," she whispered and was surprised to realize that it was the truth.

          Brushing her cheek Angelus murmured, "My Willow."

          "Always," she answered pressing her lips to his.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

          Groaning Willow stopped her exercises, setting down her sword, and picked up her ringing cell phone. Breathing heavily, trying to catch her breath, she answered, "Rosenberg, here."

          Silence. Willow waited and was about to hang up when a voice replied, hesitantly, "Hey, red."

          Dropping the bottle of water she was holding Willow was struck dumb. Speechless and in shock she stumbled into a chair. Moving her jaw she attempted to speak but couldn't find the voice. Swallowing, she tried to compose herself and spoke, "It's been a while."

          A nervous laugh. "Yeah. So how've you been?"

          "Okay, I guess. You?"

          "Not too bad."

          Willow felt an old spark light and despite her best efforts she felt her heart start to race. Closing her eyes she berated herself. She was over those emotions, they were history – dead and buried. Then why were they suddenly controlling her? Opening her eyes she couldn't help but smile. "I've missed you."

          A soft chuckle from the other line. "I still make you nervous, huh?"

          Her cheeks suddenly felt hot and Willow hated how he could still get to her. "What are you talking about?"

          "I can hear it in your voice, Willow."

          God, she loved the sound of her name on his lips. Still, after so many years she was putty in his hands. Willow remembered when she first came to accept that she loved him. It was after leaving Sunnydale; after being shunned by her friends. He had avoided her and she couldn't blame him. There was so much between them but at the same time it wasn't about _him_ and that's what he hated. He refused to meet her eyes or talk to her or be alone with her and her friends encouraged his avoidance of her – they didn't understand. Willow wasn't ashamed but she granted him his distance and on the day that she fled her home she left him a note. In it was an address and a phone number.

          It took him six months to drum up the courage to call her but since that first call they had spoken as often as possible and seen each other a handful of times. She missed him and still loved him, though he no longer consumed her as in the past.

          "I hate that you know me so well," Willow said.

          "I don't."

          Smiling slightly she responded, "I know. And that's one of the things I love best about you."

          Silence. "Um, how long are you in Sunnydale?"

          "I don't know," she answered. "As long as it takes."

          "Oh." Another pause. "Well, before you head for London maybe you could, um – "

          Willow smiled. "I'll come," she said.

          There was a sigh on the other end. "Good."

          "Seven months is too long, I know," Willow spoke his thought.

          After six years she still craved his touch and after six years it still frightened her. It made sense, though, that he had so wormed his way into her skin. He had been her first and he had made his claim permanent. Willow had resented him, at first, for so binding her passion to his but know she accepted it for what it was. She would always love him, always need him, yes, but now that desire had calmed. Now Willow had Spike. Now she loved Spike.

          But every so often she craved _him_, and not Spike but the bleached vampire understood – how could he not? – and always stepped back when her passion rose. Willow loved Spike more for that.

          Regaining her mind, shaking away her memories, Willow asked, "How's the Hellmouth?"

          "Chicago's Chicago," was the reply.

          Hearing the door open Willow looked up. Drusilla smiled to the redhead and silently shut the door. Dru knew, by the look in Willow's eyes, who she was talking to and said not a word. "You sound good," Willow smiled.

          "So do you, red."

          Willow smiled to herself, her heart racing and her blood burning. "I miss you."

          She couldn't see him but Willow knew he was smiling. She always knew when he was happy or sad or lonely or anything at all. He was a part of her and he would hold a part of her for all eternity. "I miss you too, my Willow."

          Chuckling, Spike opened the door to Willow's office, his laughter dying on his lips. He knew that look in Willow's eyes and sighed, nodding to Willow and joining Dru on the couch across the room. "Don't wait another seven months before calling me, okay?" Willow was on the verge of tears. "I don't do so good when I don't hear from you."

          "I know the feeling," he answered. "I promise, Wills."

          "Good, 'cause I'm going to hold you to that."

          Chuckling he responded, "You always do. So I'll see you soon?"

          "You couldn't keep me away."

          "I love you, Willow."

          She smiled. "I love you too."

          "For eternity."

          "For eternity and the stars."

          Taking a deep breath Willow shut her cell phone and looked over at Spike and Drusilla. "You okay?" Dru asked. Willow nodded.

          "And him?" Spike's voice wasn't resentful or jealous, his question was sincere and Willow loved him for that.

          Sighing, Willow answered, "Angel's good."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

          "This is completely ridiculous," Buffy ranted. "It's pointless and so, totally unneeded. You haven't found anything in weeks and there hasn't been an attack since, well, your commando guy went all Jekyll and Hyde the other day. So this is the new plan: no more cages, no more tests, no more of _this_. And that's final."

          Willow just looked at Buffy. The blonde Slayer stood with her arms crossed over he chest, tapping her foot. Laughing to herself Willow shook her head. "No."

          Buffy looked momentarily taken aback – she was used to getting her way. "What?"

          "It doesn't work that way anymore, Buffy. You're not in control here and I really don't give a shit what you think. You can whine and throw you're little tantrums until Hell freezes over but you won't get your way. Not with me."

          Huffing, Buffy said, "Fine, then I'll just let myself out." Attempting to push past the redheaded Commander didn't go as the pissed off Slayer had hoped. She took two steps before finding herself through back onto the floor with Willow pointing a tranquilizer gun at her chest. "Not this time, Buffy. You don't get to take control of this situation. _I'm_ in command here and you'd do well to remember that. I'm not the mousy hacker I used to be and I won't cower away every time your brassed off. I've met worst things then a Slayer, _Buff_, and I've defeated them all. You're not so special. You never were." Lifting the gun away Willow stepped back and added as Buffy got to her feet, "If you attempt to flee my men have been ordered to take you down using whatever means necessary."

          Dropping down on her bed, resting her head in Dru's lap, Willow let out a breath. "Why do I even bother?"

          Running her finger's through her red locks Dru looked down at Willow. "What do you mean, love?"

          "I don't know," Willow sighed, looking up as the door opened.

          Hope peeked her head around the door, her curly red locks bouncing against her cheek. Sparkling honey-colored eyes met Willow's, a shy smile on the young Slayer's lips. "Can I join the party?"

          Holding out her arms Willow replied, "Of course, munchkin."

          Pushing the door closed Hope leapt on the bed, lying beside Willow and resting her head against her chest. "You know, I just realized something," Willow said.

          "What's that?" Dru asked.

          "I'm a total masochist."

          Hope laughed, covering her mouth quickly. Willow lifted a questioning eyebrow and Hope only laughed harder. "Willow, you're the Queen Masochist."

          Frowning, Willow sighed. "I know."

          "Oh, stop with the Frown Town," Hope chided. "Nobody likes a party pooper."

          "Do I even stand a chance?"

          Dru smiled. "Red, you're being cryptic."

          "Sorry," Willow said. "I mean, I keep trying to be Civil Willow or Buddy Willow but, but every time I gain an inch they do something that forces me to be Commander Willow and I take a _huge_ leap backwards."

          "Don't expect them to treat you like a friend, Wills," Dru responded, "because you're not. You're a different person then who you were and what you are now doesn't fit with this pre-perceived ideal of who they think you _should_ be. They're still living in the past, pet, and they're still expecting you to slip back into the role _they_ think you should be. But you won't hop-to and let them tell you what to do anymore and they can't handle that." 

          After a moment Willow said, "But they hate me."

          "Maybe," Dru responded. "But why does it matter? They're the ones that ran _you_ out of town when you most needed _them_. They shut you out and they changed you. Stop trying to be accepted by people who will never accept you."

          "I hate when you're right," Willow smiled.

          "What are you talking about?" Dru returned the smile. "I'm always right."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Sunnydale: April, 1998**

          Willow took her time walking to the library. The hallways were empty, not surprising since it was Friday afternoon and students and teachers alike had lives and plans. Willow had research. Again. Xander and Cordelia had managed to whine their way out and were – Willow checked her watched – on their way to the Bronze. Oz and the band had a gig at the Bronze so he would be a no show. Buffy had claimed that she wanted to spend the night on patrol but Willow knew the Slayer would do a quick sweep then head over to the Bronze and meet up with the others. Giles, poor Giles was still recovering from the shock of Jenny Calendar's death     , the three week anniversary was in a couple of days.

          Willow, however, was used to solitary research and it didn't bother her that her friends had all abandoned her. Again.

          Sighing the redhead pushed open the library doors but stopped. They were all there, sitting along the staircase, looking at her. Emotions were thick and Willow felt them all: hurt, confusion, anger, betrayal. At first Willow was a bit perplexed as to their presence but she soon understood.

          They knew.

          Dropping her bag onto the nearest table she took a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest. "Alright," she said. "Let's have it."

          Buffy spoke first, "I don't even know where to begin."

          "I do," Xander raged, glaring disbelievingly at his friend. "What the hell were you thinking?"

          Cordelia was frowning. "How could you?"

          Giles wouldn't meet Willow's eyes but his disappointment was like a physical blow to Willow. "I can't, for the life of me, understand."

          Turning her eyes to Oz Willow expected some kind of betrayal in his eyes but all she saw was a blank look. He remained silent and Willow was surprised.

          The redhead wanted to laugh. Her friends all sat accusing her of some huge betrayal but none of them even asked why she would such a thing. They never wondered what had happened to drive her to such extremes. They worried only that Perfect Willow had stepped outside her box. "You _still_ don't get it, do you? None of you have the slightest clue as to why I did this; why I let him in. You're all blind and selfish and couldn't care less about me." Willow paused, giving them a chance to defend themselves. They didn't. "Even now you can't deny it. Do have any idea what I've been going through? Do you even care? You've all bee so wrapped up in yourselves you've turned blind towards me. Do you know how long Angelus has been coming to me? Since he was first released what, almost four months ago? Did any of you even have a clue? No. Not that I expected you to."

          Buffy was shaking her head. "I saw you two," she accused. "Together in your room."

          "You saw us _once_, Buffy and that was only a couple of days ago," Willow responded. "That wasn't the first time Angelus had been in my room."

          "But it'll sure as hell be his last," Xander said through clenched teeth.

          Anger flared behind Willow's eyes. "Who the hell are you to even _try_ and control my life?"

          "We're your friends," Buffy retorted.

          "No, Buffy. You _were_ my friends." Picking up her things Willow turned back to her friends. "I'm not a fool, Buffy. I know what Angelus is and I know what I have to do. I'll bring your precious Angel back to you, don't worry, but I won't for you. I'll do it for him because Angel deserves it."

          "Willow – "

          "I'm tired of being ignored," Willow continued. "I'm tired of being pushed aside and used by people who are supposed to give a damn about me. I won't be you're flunky any more. I'm done with this." Stepping just outside the library Willow paused, holding the door open, and added, "You guys only care about others when they try to take your spotlight but don't worry because I'm perfectly happy standing in the shadows.

"Do you love him?"

Startled, Willow turned around and found Buffy looking expectantly at her. It had been three days since the library confrontation and none of her friends had spoken a word to the redhead. Turning away from Buffy Willow responded, "No, Buffy. I don't love Angelus."

"But you've slept with him." It was a statement of fact, not a question, and Willow saw the disgust in Buffy's eyes.

"Yes," Willow answered honestly, "I've slept with him."

"Why?" Buffy pleaded. "Why would you give yourself to, to something like that?"

Willow almost laughed. "Why? Because Angelus was there when you weren't; Angelus heard me when you stopped listening; Angelus saw me when you turned a blind eye. Because Angelus wanted me and perused me and seduced me. For once _I_ was the object of desire, Buffy, not you."

"You're blaming me for this?" Buffy cried.

Willow shook her head. "No Buffy, I'm not. You had nothing to do with this and you can't take credit this time for rescuing me. I won't let you walk away with the praise. Angelus was _my _choice. _Mine_. I chose to let him in and I chose to let him stay."

"But he's a monster."

"I know what he is, Buffy. I've never tried to fool myself into thinking he was anything like Angel and I never wanted him to be. It was Angelus I desired.

"Oh, god, Willow don't you know that he's just trying to get to me and using you to do it."

Willow laughed and turned scornful eyes to her friend. "Do you hear yourself, Buffy? You are _not_ the center of the universe. This wasn't about you. This was never  about you." Willow stepped closer to the Slayer who was on the brink of tears. "You'd better come to realize that Buffy," she threatened, "because if you don't you'll regret it and your perfect, protected world will crumble at your feet."


End file.
